The Root of All EvilFletcher, J. S. (Joseph Smith)
General
The Root of All Evil
Fletcher, J. S. (Joseph Smith)
Detective and mystery stories; England -- Fiction
"Then we've got forty acres of worthless stuff on top, and many a
thousand tons of coal beneath!" said Mortimer. "It'll take a good time
to exhaust what there is beneath the forty acres. And we can get to
work. As for the rest of the land in the place--well, as need arises we
shall have to come to terms with the other property owners. We should
pay them royalties; that's all a matter of arrangement. We might lease
their land--mineral rights, you know--from them for a term of years. All
that can be settled later. What we want is a definite standing as
owners; to begin with--owners! We might have leased Scholes's forty
acres for twenty-one, forty-two, or sixty-three years, but it's far best
to buy. Then it's ours. Go and see Scholes at once--to-morrow."
Jeckie picked up the cheque, and seemed to be looking at it, but
Mortimer saw that she did not see it at all; her thoughts were
elsewhere.
"And if I buy this bit o' land?" she said, after a pause. "What then?"
"Then, my dear madam, we'll get the necessary capital together, and
proceed to make our mine!" replied Mortimer, with a laugh. "But there'll
be things to be done first. First of all, so as to make assurance doubly
sure, we should do a bit of prospecting--dig a drift into the seam (if
I find an out-crop, as I may) to prove its value, or sink a trial pit,
or do some boring. It'll probably be boring; and when that takes place
you'll soon know what to expect in the way of results."
"I should want to know a lot about that before I put money into it,"
affirmed Jeckie. "I'm not the sort to throw money away."
"Neither am I!" laughed Mortimer. He rose in his characteristically
abrupt fashion. "Well!" he said. "You'll see Scholes?--at once! Get hold
of his forty acres, and then--then we can move. And in five years--ah!"
"What?" demanded Jeckie as she followed him to the door.
"You'll be mistress of a grand country house and a town mansion in
Mayfair!" answered Mortimer, showing his teeth. "Wealth! Look beneath
your very boots! it's just waiting there to be torn out of the earth."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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